I was fishing for myself.



I was fishing for a thought

Something to pull me from these depths

I was throwing in the line to catch my creases

and folds

To seize my chances

and my mistakes

I was tossing the bait to my insecurities

and languish

I was fishing for a crooked smile

and a tear

Something to make me feel

I was trying to find the trinkets of my memory

and the beads of my conscious

I was fishing for the pages of my love

and the songs of my hatred

I was sitting on the dock waiting for familiar tug

to pull me in the water

So I could feel the abyss of my mind

So I could try and wrangle it into

something that I could touch

Something that I could control

I was fishing for the pieces so that I could

sew them all together

And look at the picture

not to admire it

but to wonder how it got that way.

I guess I was

fishing for myself.